A Private's Truth
by Red Sova
Summary: The Light was waning. Something had to be done and soon or all would be lost. They needed hope. They needed assurance. They needed Faith. And then came the Prophecy. There was newfound hope and faith. But there was also despair.
1. Chapter 1

_The war had been raging for eleven hard years._

 _There was no hope in sight. No victory without its cost._

 _Slowly but surely as Albus Dumbledore watched the Wizarding World began to lose its hope. People no longer fought for the light like they once had. Instead they hid theirselves away allowing the Dark Lord's terror to reign as they prayed they wouldn't the next known casualty on a long list._

 _Not even his Order could hold on much longer. They had lost so many and like the people were lowly crumbling._

 _The Light was waning._

 _Something had to be done and soon or all would be lost._

 _They needed hope._

 _They needed assurance._

 _They needed Faith._

 _And then came the Prophecy._

 _There was newfound hope and faith._

 _But there was also despair._

 _Like he suspected, The Dark Lords Spy had heard part of the prophecy and Albus knew wihtout a doubt Tom would leave nothing to chance- and thats exactly what the blue eyed wizard was counting on._

 _So the agened wizard hide the only two children who fit the prophecy under the Fidilus with Peter Pettigrew as the Secret Keeper, reasoning with the Potters and Longbottoms that Black would be too obvious for the position._

 _He knew that by time the week was over Pettigrew would have given the Secret to Tom and though Albus hated having to all but scarifice some of his most loyal some things had to be done for the 'Greater Good'._

 _And done they were:_

 _On Holloween Night Voldemort killed Lilly and James Potter leaving their son Hadrain 'Harry' as the Boy-Who-Lived while the Longbottoms were totured into insanity and their son: Neville was sent to live with his Grandmother._

 _On November First, Sirius Black was thrown without trail into Azaban- Another scarifice for the 'Greater Good' - since it was obvious he was the Potter's Secret Keeper and murder of the 'Brave and Noble' Petter Pettigrew._

 _Finally with Black out of the way and Lupin in self exile, Albus Dumbledore set into motion plans that would one day insure the absolute loyality and control over his new found weapon. That very night, as the muggles laid sleeping within the safety of their homes and the wizards celebrated the child, the Headmaster laid Harry Potter and a note- explaining the Deaths of Lilly and James Potter- onto the doorstep of Number Four Private Drive._

 _Without a second thought Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore turned on heel and vanished into the night with a still disapproving McGonagall and a weeping Hagrid._

* * *

He should have known.

He should have suspected.

He should have recognized the glee in their eyes as they informed him he was to accompany them on the Cruise.

He should have realized something was wrong when his walrus of an Uncle glanced about the empty deck as he watched the icy terrain below from the safety rail.

But like all four year old, Freak was obvious.

He didn't' see the walrus move in on him. He didn't see the determined look in his horse of an Aunt's eyes.

But he did notice the sudden push that sent him freefalling into the icy waters below.

Then there was terror and utter panic as he tried and failed to force his way to the surface. Unfortunately Freak was never taught how to swim and slowly but surely the surface moved further and further out of his reach.

This was it.

He was going to drown.

And no one would ever know. No one would ever care.

Of that Freak was certain.

* * *

Humanity was a complex species.

They were capable of the Greatest of Kindness and the Most Horrible of Evils.

They created as they destroyed and sometimes Super Secret Agent Nigel could understand the rage his long time Nemesis directed at them.

This would happen to be one of those times.

It was supposed to have been just a little visit and maybe some _human gawking_ as the young hatchlings these days liked to call it. It should have been rather quite seeing how fast the human zoo boat- a cruise if he recalled correctly- moved in open waters.

Maybe Five minutes top, nothing more nothing less.

Of course that had soon change nearing the end of the gawking as he witnessed a large human- or maybe a walrus in human skin?- push a young Lad in rags over the edge of the boat.

The moment the Lad had hit the icy artic waters so had the emerald eyed spy.

Locating the small human was the easy getting him to the surface on the other flipper wasn't as easy but thankfully after a few trail and errors he managed to grab ahold to the back of the little one's shirt with his beak before using all his strength to drag them both to the surface.

As he watched the small human hatchling shiver and cough out icy water on the artic ice, the spy fount it unpleasantly easy to understand the Mad Squirrel's hatred for humanity.

* * *

The boat was gone.

Freak couldn't help the shiver that rushed through his spine as a cough tore through his aching throat.

It was freezing.

He could feel the frost and ice already beginning to form on his soaking form as he watched his small rescuers pace around before him, reminding Freak a lot of Mrs. White- his science teacher- when she was trying to figure out a solution to some complicated problem.

"T-T-Thank Y-You."

His voice was low and hoarse, probably hard enough to hear without the chatter of his teeth intervening but the small Penguin seemed to have heard anyway as it paused it pacing and looked at him with a set of matching emerald eyes.

It was probably thinking him crazy for bothering to thank it, but its not like it mattered. No one else was here to see him anyway.

Rubbing his hands down his arms in a vain attempt to bring back the warmth, Freak smiled down the rather comfortable looking Penguin. If he recalled correctly their feathers kept out the chill while preserving their own warmth.

If only...

"I wish I had feathers like yours."

* * *

He did not just see that.

Nope. Not him.

Honestly Nigel couldn't tell you what he didn't see even if he tried.

One moment the human Hatchling had been talking to him and the next there had been this sort of...

Presence?

Pressure?

The spy honestly didn't know what it was but the next moment there had been a hatchling where the human once was.

A small emerald eyed hatchling looking about as confused as he felt.

* * *

The peng- Nigel could talk...

Was it normal for Penguins to talk or was it another thing that made him the Freak he was?

"I didn't quite catch your name there Lad."

The was barely suppressed anger in the elder's emerald eyes as the spy tried to reel in his rage.

"Freak."

"That's not a name Lad. Let alone one fitting for a hatchling."

"Its the only one I have. "

The whisper was soft even to his own ears but somehow the penguin before him still managed to hear as his breathing labored and eyes narrowed, Leaving Freak to wonder wither or not he had said something wrong.

"Well then. We'll just have to give you a new one. "

* * *

He was keeping him.

He didn't care what anyone esle said or thought but this hatchling would not be returning to the filth.

He'd sooner ensure The Red Squirrel fount his way to their doorstep and would personally cover up the guresome murders before he ever allowed that to happened. And if he couldn't manage that he would get them charged with First Degree Murder.

The Hatchling would be his and anyone who thought otherwise would soon learn why no one screwed over Super Secret Agent Nigel.

"Come along Private."

Taking the Hatchling's flippers into his own the spy slowly helped the smaller onto his feet before began to walk back to his current home- a rather cozy size igloo only a quarter mile from their current location.


	2. Chapter 2

Warmth.

It was the first sign somethhing was off. Freak knew his cupboard and he knew it well, No matter what season of the year is was his cupboard was never warm.

The second sigh was how comfortable he felt.

For years his bed had been nothing more then a thin hole filled blanket on a matress that was more broken springs and shattered wood then matress.

The final sign- and what really caught his attention - was the smell of fresh fish.

His Aunt would never allow fish into her home unless it had alreay been deep freid as the horse like woman utterly loathed the smell of fish almost as much as she loathed him.

Maybe his rather... strange dream hadn't been a dream after all?

Was it real?

Was Nigel real or just another part of the dream?

A part of Freak wanted to open his eyes and find out but he couldn't bring himself to.

What if he opened them and was back in his cupboard?

What if it had all been a dream?

What if he was still dreaming right now and opening his eyes would wake him up?

Honestly, he didn't want to wake up if that was the case.

"Private Lad you need to wake up for breakfast."

Nigel's voice came from near his head but all the younger could bring himself to do was shake his head as he spoke in a broken whispher.

"Can't."

He could hear the other kneeling next to him and what felt ot be flippers sitting him up as a curious tone filled the older's voice.

"And why's that?

"I don't want you to be a dream."

* * *

 _He would not hunt down those sorry bastards and commit mass genocide. He was better then that, better then them. He would not commit mass genocide._

 _Instead he would stay with the hatchling and try his damnest to reassure the young one this was not a dream, He was not dead and this was not prudery._

 _And later, once the little one was nice and calm the elder would drop a few clues for that mad Russian and maybe the crazy albino, Widow, while he was at it. After all he said he wouldn't commit mass genocide not that he wouldn't orchestra and encourage it._

The hatchling was small- far too small for Nigel's taste- unable to even climb into his own toddler sized chair and thin- God, the feather skin was stretched far too tight over those small bones with every little indent perfectly visible for all too see.

Hell he had meet War Prisoners in better shape then this little one.

The parental side of the spy demanded he started shoveling food down the hatchlings throat until the little one was nice and plump but the logical side easily overrode that instinct.

He wasn't sure when or how much the child last ate but to overfeed him too soon would be pointless as the smaller's stomach had likely shrunken with time and wouldn't be able to handle it.

For now he would have to take things slow unless he desired a sick and miserable hatchling on his flippers.

* * *

Nigel was a strange one, Fr- Private would give the elder that.

He seemed warm, with a smile always on his face and a friend, goofy look about his unnatural eyes. The elder didn't seem to believe he was wasting food by giving him something other than stale bread or moldy month expired cheese like horse and whale had. Instead the elder had allowed him to eat whatever he wanted till his hearts content and though Fre- Private couldn't swallow much the fish and fruit had been a delicious change of pace.

Nigel was soft, warm, comfortable- and dare he think it?- Safe. He didn't seem like the sort who could hurt anyone upon first glace but Fr- Private could read people- and apparently Penguins better than most.

Nigel was a danger to Fr-Private but considering the anger hidden within those eyes every time he preferred to himself as Freak or brought up the issue of not wishing to waste the penguin's food on him, or when those eyes glanced over him...

Well...

Horse and Walrus didn't seem to be contained in the same category of safety he was. If anything it looked as if the elder wanted nothing more than to violently tear the two apart- in the most agonizing way possible- atom by atom. Maybe it was wrong and made him a bigger freak then he already was but a small voice in the back of Fr-Private's head couldn't help but wonder if they could watch as the elder did so.

Who knew maybe those packages the elder sent out had contained tickets? Though F- Private doubted the voices gleeful opinion he couldn't help but the slight curiosity that filled him.

What had those packages contained?

* * *

To be honest the last person Widow expected to contact her was Agent Nigel. The penguin had never seemed to sort to require her... Special Services. Yet as she stared at the file before her on a Vernon Dursley- was he even human or another Dave?- it was blankly obvious something had changed.

What could have possibly caused someone usually so Pro-Humanity to seek her aid?

Had the stubborn English Gentleman finally saw things their way?

Was it a cleverly ruse trap?

Was he switching sides? Had he fallen like so many other Agents before him?

She supposed the only way to truly know was to have a little faith and show up for the meeting.

* * *

If there was one thing to sour the mood on an already rotten day this was likely it.

A sharp golden eye glared down at the package sitting innocently upon his desk with that all too familiar writing on it. How in Hell did that damn spy keep finding him?

He was certain he had gotten rid of all those trackers the spy had tried planting on him the last time they collided, so how was it the other still managed to not only find him but deliver a God Damn package into the center of his current HQ without being noticed once?!

Unable to curve his curiosity, the rouge gently picked up the package so not to jar it with any sudden movements. It was too light to be another of the spy's bomb but too heavy to be a poison- the Russian liked to think the emerald eyed nuisance wasn't that incompetent.

There was no suspicious stains or odor so it wasn't likely another body part- if he hadn't already known the annoyance had issues that would have been a incontestable sign- And there was no rattling when he took a chance and shook the package.

With only a slight hesitance- you never quite knew when the elder would try to rig a package- a sharp claw like nail tore open the seal before swiftly dumping the contents onto his desk...

Paper.

Nyet. An profile on a Petunia Dursley nee Evans and a meeting location written in that familiar cursive styled emerald ink.

Oh, this was so much more then just a profile. It was something the Russian could honestly say he never expected to receive from the Spy of all beings:

A Hit Order.

Now he was curious.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing he noticed was the fur.

Frea- Private, it would take some time to adjust, couldn't help but stare at the squirrel before him without so much as an ounce of fear.

Sure, the eyepatched wearing mammal looked a bit frightening and rather displeased all the time- maybe he even struck fear into others considering he rather forebidding aroua that seemed to surround the taller- but not Fr- Private.

He couldn't bring himself to fear the other. For some reason the very color of the mammals fur all but screamed safety at him while leaving him with a sense of fimilarity.

It was ridicilious of course, the only time he had ever seem such a shade of color before had been in a rather starting nightmare consisting of that very shade and a flash of emerald green that had left him waking in a cold sweat with but a silent scream on the tip of his tonuge.

There had been nothing safe about it then so why now?

* * *

Nigel was certain the Hatchling was going to drive him into an easy case of paranoia rivaling even that of that of the bloody American: Rockgut's before the day was over.

Every time that small flipper would reach for rouge fur the British spy had to all but restrain himself from jumping out of his chair and yanking the Lad to him.

Thankfully the younger mammal didn't seem to notice as that lone golden stayed solely focused on him.

* * *

He wasn't blind, despite what Nigel would think, the Russian was quiet aware of the small penguin kit observing him.

He was all too aware of that small flipper hesitantly reaching out as if to touch his fur before the Kit would change its mind and quickly pull it back to his side only to repeat the process.

If he was honest it reminded Red a lot of Nigel when they had first meet, only Nigel's shyness had come from well trained manners not the abuse he was certain this kits shyness came from.

Of course he could- and was hopefully- just jumping to conclusions but the rouge highly doubted it.

He had spent years surrounded by similar- and worse- conditions in that God Damn Lab and unless Antarctica suddenly decided to house a Secret Siberian Lab-which the rouge highly doubted- there was only one logical conclusion.

The Kit was the reason he was here, but why was humans- if these Dursley's could be considered such- involved if that was the case?

* * *

To be bluntly honest, he had always hated humanity. They were a despicable race that destroyed everything and anything without remorse or regret.

He had never once considered he could hate anything more then that race but the more he heard the more the Russian couldn't help but feel as though he had spoken too soon.

Humanity was a despicable race as a whole but these _'Dursley's'_ may as well have been mindless savages and was rather swiftly making their way to the top of his List.

Who could possibly justify abusing, torturing and attempting to murder a kit of their own species -of any species?

He knew Nigel wanted this done and over with, no doubt wanting the deed done- and his flippers washed of them- before the elder could change his mind but some things where better done as a slower pace so the final victory could be eternally savored like a fine wine.

"Death is quick Agent Nigel. If what you say about these humans,"

the sneer of disgust and underline tone of distain was clear in the rouge's voice as his lone eye sharpened,

"Then it would be best to forego the quick and easy path. Instead we should focus on a more long term effect. They have a son, Da?"

* * *

Harry Potter was missing.

How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

Only a week ago he had held all the pieces, organized and strategies every possible move. He had been the Perfect Chess Master until those Muggles had left for their vacation and returned without his most valued piece.

Now thanks to those damn muggles, Albus Dumbledore was left scrambling about as he tried frantically in vain to locate his pawn in vain.

No matter what he tried no magic- spell, potion, or ritual- seemed capable of locating his missing weapon. If not for the Prophecy claiming only the Dark Lord could kill the Young Potter, Albus may have actually believed the boy dead.

* * *

Widow knew neither Red or Agent Nigel believed in magic but for once neither tried arguing with her as she placed the Wards around the Elder Spy's home. Though she knew both were watching her with that _"I'm only doing this to humor you'_ within their eyes.

The irony was not lost on her as the two Natural Born Users tended to subconsciously use their own magic on a rather weekly basics yet denied it utter existence.

Still, whether they denied it or not she was grateful she didn't have to sneak around- and risk being shot at by the Spy- to place the wards.

* * *

A Sorcerer.

The very though of the world left a bitter taste on the rouge tongue though he was careful to keep it concealed as a lone golden eye carefully took note of Widow's Wards.

They where acceptable but with the thick magic the Kit was all but drowning them in, they would need some slight adjustments to last any longer then a month. He would have to return sometime later tonight- after Nigel and his new found charge had gone to bed and Widow was long gone- before he could actively do anything about it though.

Heaven only knew trouble- and headaches- he would have if caught by either the Spy or the Albino.

...Nyet.

He wouldn't be caught.

He'd get the job done quickly- in and out. No pause or hesitation.

Then he would try figuring out more about why a Sorcerer Kit- and the full identify of the kit- was on this side of the barrier instead of with any Kin he may have left or in one of _their_ orphanages.

Whatever the reason it couldn't possibly be legal.


	4. Chapter 4

Raising a child, let alone an abused child, was easier said then done.

Though it probably didn't help that he had absolutely no experience on dealing with Hatchlings nor did he ever really need any till now.

Maybe he had been a bit impulsive in taking the Hatchling but he couldn't find it within himself to summon any regrets. Most of his best decisions where made by impulse anyway and this time would be no different. For now though, both he and the little one would be going through a learning experience.

* * *

It was a Nightmare.  
That was the only way Petunia Dursley could think to describe her life. At first everything had gone perfectly and she dared to hope they could return to being the perfectly normal family they had been before she had discovered her freak of a nephew on her doorstep all those years ago.

And for a while, maybe they had been but then that crackpot fool had dared to enter her home, raging and ranting about the deal.

HA! They had kept their part of the deal, the letter had never once said they had to keep the freak once he was broken. Her wonderful husband had done the world a favor by permanently ridding them- and the world- of the freak, but that crackpot fool of a headmaster didn't see it the same way as he stole their hard earned gold.

It was the freaks fault.

He had no use for the gold and by all rights with him dead the Potter fortune should have been hers since her freak of a sister married that freak, but she was denied for being normal.

The sour mood had stayed for a few days and likely would have stayed longer if _they_ hadn't came.

Men and Woman in black fancy yet inconspicuous suits.

They had arrived at midday with a warrant- a warrant to take her precious Dudley from her.

She had tried to argued- there obviously was a mistake- and when that failed she had resorted to screaming as her husband trying to force them from their home. Unfortunately they ended up leaving with her preciously son in the end and her wonderful husband in the back seat of a Scotland Yard Cruiser.

She had thought things couldn't get worse then...

Oh how wrong she had been.

Not long after a Court Commission had arrived informing her that her wonderful husband was being charged with Embezzlement, Government Fraud, rape of several of his past secretaries, child abuse and murder.

There was obviously a mistake. Vernon, the wonderful man and husband he was, would never do such a thing.

It was obviously the Freaks fault. Even from the Grave his freakishness was ruining her perfect family.

At first she had assumed it couldn't get worse then this but then whispers started and slowly but surely the whole neighbor was taking about the residents of Number Four Private Drive.

* * *

If there was one thing, that Mad Russian knew how to do it was ruin someone.

Widow couldn't help but smirk slightly as she observed the rouge's handiwork.

Still now that he had done his part it was her turn to see what sort of Chaos she could bring to the table.

* * *

Dudley Dursley wanted to go home.

He wanted his Mum and Dad, his perfect home with all his toys, three proper meals a day instead of the half bowl of questionable content, his warm thick covers instead of the rags all the children had, and the Freak to beat on- though the Freak had been rather absent as of late.

He didn't want to be here. The land was too cold, the place too crowded.

He had tried to tell them he didn't belong there, that there was an obvious mistake but the few that actually spoke English didn't seemed to care. If it was possible the people here seemed colder than the land itself.

He had learned that rather quickly as the first time he had thrown his usual fit that would make his Mother give him what ever he wanted one of the Matrons had dragged him out into the snow by his arm and all but stripped the skin from his backside before making him do chores his mother usually made the freak do and finally sent him to the small cot- if it could be called that- which was his bed without so much as a slice of bread for dinner.

After three more tries, with three separate Matrons, Dudley had learned quickly his usual methods would not work here and dared not try again.

* * *

To be honest Vernon Dursley wasn't sure how it happened. All he could remember was having been sitting in a solitaire cell- having been separated from the ruffian scum for his own softy- when the door had opened and what he was sure was a woman had entered.

If he concentrated he could distantly recall standing but that was it. Everything after that was a blank until he had woken here- within the Prison Hospital.

For a while he had laid there, unsure why he was there and felt so numb until the Doctor had arrived and calmly explain to them that someone had removed his genitals with a rusted eating utensil.

For a moment the Walrus like man had been certain the Doctor had been trying to pull the wool over his head- likely a prison joke the scum here had decided to use to torment him- until a small container had been placed on the table before him.

The Scream that followed could be heard throughout the whole prison as it echoed thoughout the building.

 _Somehow, someway this was the Freaks fault. Even from the very pits of hell he was causing their perfect family grief._

* * *

 _..And that should do it._

Nodding to himself the rouge stood and carefully looked over the wards. He'd no doubt have to return in a few years to make sure they stayed charged- or that the young Sorcerer's power didn't override them- but besides that his business here was done.

Sighing softly the rouge furred squirrel allowed himself to relax while he could.

No doubt Widow had already stirred up some rather diabolical trouble while he was gone that would both mentally scar most beings unused to her work and leave him too busy covering up the trail she likely left behind to do so again anytime soon.


	5. Chapter 5

The British Wizarding Commutiy was a backwards sort.

Honestly the rouge fount it disgusting how far behind the community had fallen due to their refuseal to leave the Dark Ages and supreme form of speciesism.

How the fuck cared how _'Pure'_ your blood was?

He was willing to bet their so called _'Pure Blood'_ bleed the same shade of crimson as everyone else if he slit their throats. But the mass slaughter of these sheep would have to wait, he as here for another reason today. Like finding out which of their children they all but abandoned in the Mundane world when he hadn't even lost his first tooth yet.

Usually discovering the identity of a Sorcerer's child would be difficult, parents would go through great lengths to hide their child's identity from the outside world but as Fate would have it, these backwards nimrods all but advertised the child in every window to every store they had.

Harry Potter.

Harry must of been short for something, but it was a clue.

Now all he had to figure out who Harry Potter really was as he highly doubted the kit he saw was slaying dragons or ridding unicorns into the sunset. Looks like he was going to have to break into the minstry records if he wanted to find any truth.

* * *

A community of cowards.

They hid in their homes cowering for their lives until a fifteen month infant got lucky and killed their so called Dark Lord. They never bothered looking into the how of matters as the rouge had a feeling their was more this story then they had. They abadoned the child without a second thought and threw his legal guardian into Azkaban without so much as a proxy trail.

This would never be allowed in Russia.

For one, if there was a _'Dark Lord'_ it would have been dealt with immediately with hostile force not by a fifteen month child. If a child did manage it, they would have fount out how immediately.

Second of all, this Sirius Black would have been given a trial- no matter how much everyone may have doubted his innocence. While the trail was happening the child would have been placed with the closest living sorcerer relative and if he didn't have one. The Kit would have been placed into a Guild best suited for his natural abilites.

The fact these so called Wizards and this Albus Dumbledore had screwed up so bad, didn't really suprise Red. Common Sense always did seem to be lacking here.

Well...

Their lost was his gain. Proving the man's innocence would likely be difficult with how stubborn these sheep could be but how said you had to prove someone innocent before granting freedom?

* * *

 ** _Sirius Black Escapes Azkaban!_**

 ** _You-Know-Who's Second in Command at Large!_**

 ** _by: Rita Skeeter_**

 ** _Where is Sirius Black?_**

 ** _Potters' Betrayer Escapes Azkaban!_**

 ** _By: Alexander Frost_**

 ** _Sirius Black Missing from Azkaban!_**

 ** _Mass Murderer on the Loose!_**

 ** _By: Johnathan Smith_**

 ** _Azkaban Escape or Cover-up?_**

 ** _What the Ministry doesn't want you to know._**

 ** _By_ : _Xenophilius_** ** _Lovegood_**

Dread filled Albus Dumbledore as he stared at the titles before him.

After all these years, Black had escaped.

His carefully laid plan was falling to bits around him as the public turned to him and cried out for their savior. So wishing to protect the child from _'Voldemort's Right Hand'_ and others wishing to use the child to protect theirselves. Everyone was certain Black was going after the Potter child and it was only a matter of time before his words fell flat on reassuring the public.

It was only a matter of time before someone noticed Black never got a trail. Most likely wouldn't care but if it was that Bones woman...

The woman believed in Justice more than anything. She would ensure Black got a Trail even if it was only for the records. If Black got a trail the truth would come out.

If Black got a Trail they would know he knew the man innocent and did nothing. Then they would demand Potter, he would be forced to admit he knew not where the Child Savior and his pawn- was. There where too many loose ends, all of which could be tied back to him.

Unfortunately he couldn't make the Bones woman disappear and she always refused to bend to his tune. There was only one option left, Sirius Black must never had a trail. Convincing the Minster to have Black Kissed on sight wouldn't be a problem but finding Black before that Bones woman could would prove to be Troublesome.

And then there was the issue of finding his pawn before anyone could realize he lost the Potter Heir to that blasted Muggle World.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Please don't get rid of me. I'll do better, I promise-"

"Its okay Lad, " the elder kept a careful grip on the younger's flipper; eyeing the burns with distain as he forced his voice to stay soft and gentle to smooth the frantic Hatchling.

Discovering the hatchling attempting to cook breakfast- while standing on a wobbling stack of books and just reaching the stove top- had all but screamed disaster. Watching said pile of books finally tip over, all but throwing the hatching upon the stove causing the skillet of boiling grease to spill over which in turn transformed the stovetop into a raging inferno- had all but given the spy a heart attack as he sprung into action.

It could have been worse then slightly burnt flippers but thankfully he was still quick on his feet and managed to pull the young one away before he could completely fall in. He had expected crying, what he hadn't expected was broken apologizes and that terrified look in the younger's eyes- almost as if he was waiting for a capital punishment.

For not the first time, Nigel could feel his blood boil. Hatching shouldn't have a look like that.

They should be happy, obvious to the world. Full of smiles and innocence, sheltered by their childishly fantasies.

They shouldn't be attempting to cook when they couldn't even reach the stovetop without aid. They shouldn't look so broken and terrified as he carefully applied ointment to the Lad's flippers all the while speaking gentle words of assurance.

* * *

For not the first time in his life, Sirius Black was conflicted.

One one hand his saviour was obviously a Russian Succoccer- all of which are naturious for their standings of a darker shade of grey. His predigest all but demanded he distanct himself from the rouge- to attack the moment he had a chance before the other could stop this charade and kill him or worse.

On the other hand, he had never actually seen his saviour draw a wand, let alone use any magic- but how else could he have gotten on this Godforsaken rock? And why else would the Dementors flee upon seeing him? How else but the Darkest of Magic could the man not be the least bit affected by those demons, let alone scare them into fleeing?

But then again, the rouge did save him and had done nothing to warrant mistrust... Well besides turning into a small Red Squirrel...but that wasn't exactly mistrustful was it?

Even if it made Padfoots insticts all but scream at him that he chase the small creature and the fluffy bushy tail across the grass, into the park and into the tre... which just opened up like a door...

What the Hell?

For a moment all Sirius could do was stand there before slowly making his way closer. He leaned to peek inside- only seeing a pitch black shaft going downwards- when he felt something push him ever so slightly. The next thing the Grimm like dog was aware of he was free falling to only God knows where...

On second thought, he'd have to take that back:

A bunker... There was a bunker inside a tree...

Exactly how long had he been trapped on that God Forsaken rock?

* * *

To be bluntly honest, Nigel wasn't quite sure how to deal with Broken Hatchlings.

Usually, if it involved a mission, he could just cart the hatchling off onto some other Agent; one that was more _'child friendly'_. Thankfully very few of his missions involved children.

Still he couldn't, he wouldn't, do that here.

Private was his Hatchling. His responsibility.

And so far, the British Spy felt as though he was doing a fair job. It wasn't perfect, not by far, but it was going better then he originally assumed it would.

At least the Lad had promised not to cook again until the elder felt the younger was ready. Though he was still having a few issues with making sure the young one didn't attempt to _'pull his own weight instead of being a useless burden'_ again.

It was a work in progress, one that would no doubt take time and effort.

Fortunately, Nigel discovered he had plenty of both for some time to come.

* * *

F-Private discovered quickly he didn't like planes on their trip back to England.

For a brief moment, he had assumed the worse.

Uncle Nigel- as the elder insisted on being called- had finally realized what a Freak he really was and no longer wanted him. He was going to leave him, abandon him, or worse: Return him to his Aunt and Uncle.

But he hadn't, instead Uncle Nigel had taken him to the beautiful cottage the would of looked perfect on a post card. Too make it better, he could sense...

Something surrounding the property that reminded him a lot of Red. It was an energy of sort, something he couldn't quite put in words even if he tried but the fact it was there filled the younger with a stronger sense of safety he couldn't quite explain.

A part of him wondered wither or not he should inform Uncle Nigel but a larger part protested. There was no ill intent located within the energy, just a strong sense of warmth, comfort, and something else he didn't recognize .

"You coming Lad or do you plan to stand there all day staring into space?"

Shaking his head, the younger of the two eagerly climbed onto his Uncle's feet to get out of the snow. An amused look flashed across the elder's emerald eyes before he began to saunter their way home.

* * *

 _"If you touch that I swear to God, Black, I will throw you back onto that rock I dragged you off of myself."_

 _"B-but how?! Everyone knows magic doesn't work near electronics!"_

 _"I'm a scientist. I fount my way around that slight...issue decades ago. Don't you dare-"_

 _"Oh come on, I'm only curious. What's the worse that can happen?"_

 _"Black-"_

 ** _BOOM!_**


	7. Chapter 7

_"Hehe... Uh, sorry about that... Red, why do you have that knife?"_

 _"Because I'd rather not castrate you with my hands."_

 _"Ahh. I suppose that makes sens- Wait... What?!"_

 _The smile on the rouge's face was positively diabolical as the knife glinted dangerously within the dim lightening._

* * *

It was adorable really.

Watching the small hatchling carry the obviously bigger then him white and pink Lunacorn doll everywhere with the tenderness of a newborn mother never failed to put a smile on Nigel's beak. He never really understood children but he had always believed first presents where special.

He had experienced his doubts when first buying the doll for the Lad, especially considering who all his comrades had looked at him as if he was insane when he told them he brought it for a boy instead of the girl they all suspected.

Now though... Well it was nice to see he chosen exceptionally well.

* * *

For not the first time Sirius Black couldn't help but wonder wither or not he would have been better off in Azkaban.

Sure here there where no Soul Sucking monasteries that fed on every positive emotion you had but...

Stormy grey eyes glanced over at the rouge squirrel working at the lab's table. Sirius had a feeling if you put the rouge and those Demons alone together you would come back to find all the Dementors either cowering in a small corner or following the Russian like a lost puppy seeking shelter...

Well that is if they didn't crown the rouge king and even then they where likely to follow him like a lost puppy. The thought of either happening was enough to send chills of dread down his spine.

"Black if you have something to ask, ask it. Otherwise stop staring. "

Said man couldn't help but just slightly as the silky voice interrupted his thoughts only to find a lone golden eye glancing over the table and pinned upon him with mild annoyance. Of course he had nothing to ask but seeing their slight... Incident earlier that day- he had barely managed to escape with his manhood- the animagus didn't think it wise to tell the rouge he had been imaging him dominating the world with an army of soul sucking demons.

The Russian obviously didn't need any more encouragement. Nervously, Sirius couldn't help but lick his lips.

"I.. I was wondering what you where doing."

A brow rose and somehow he knew the rouge knew he was lying. Yet Red didn't call him out on it, instead the other gave a soft sigh and gestured the Grimm Animagus closer.

"Listen closely Black. I'm only going to explain this once. "

Though he doesn't understand half the term the rouge uses, he listens as though his very life depends on it.

And maybe one day it would. Not that Sirius Black was currently aware of that.

* * *

Teaching was thankfully something the spy enjoyed.

His comrades had always fount it ironic that the one Agent who would never take a Protégé was also the best teacher within PMI6. Its not that the elder spy didn't want a Protégé, it was just that none of them ever meet his standards. He was looking for something specific and he didn't have the time or patients to deal with a child playing dress up to inflate their already massive egos.

He needed something new, something fresh, something he could mold into his standards.

Nigel supposes that's another benefit of his newfound nephew. Once he curbed that _'Never do better then Dudley'_ \- Whatever was a Dudley? It sounded like something one would name a pig- the elder knew the Lad would be just what he was looking for. All it would take was some time and patients.

 _Time and Patients._

At this rate he might as well make the saying his new motto.

Allowing a smile to slip onto his beak, the elder spy focused back on the task before him. One way or another he would teach the Lad Basic Mathematics, Reading and Proper English by the end of the week. A solid foundation was the start to any successful mission after all.

* * *

He doesn't call himself Freak anymore, not even in his mind, to be honest the small hatchling is afraid his Uncle could read minds. He had made a mistake by calling himself 'Freak' in front of his new found Uncle. The anger is those unnatural emerald green eyes had terrified the younger, even if the elder hid the emotion quickly behind a smile. Even when the older insisted it wasn't directed at him.

 _'You name is Private,'_ his Uncle had explained with a smoothing tone, _'not 'Freak'. Do not so much as think of yourself that way again or I shall be very disappointed in you.'_

So he doesn't.

Private does not want to disappoint the elder. He wants to make the older male proud of him, so proud that the notion of getting rid of him would never cross the white haired penguin's mind. He would be the best nephew anyone could ask for, even if it meant doing against the Dursley's rules that had attempted to ingrate into him.

After all, Nigel was his Uncle now, _His_ Family, and though the artic bird had once admitted he wasn't very good with children; He was still Private's.


	8. Chapter 8

_Final Notice of Eviction_

Petunia stared blankly at the paper gripped itghtly within her hands.

No, no, no. This had to be a mistake. This couldn't be happening.

Eviction?

Her family owned this land, owned this house. She was the Landlord- No, that was Perfect Lilly wasn't it? Her sister had only given it to her as a marriage token but the bitch had died before she could fully sign it over. Those _Freaks_ had to be behind this. They must have gone looking through the documents and stumbled across the lack of monthly payments before brining it to the light of common decent folks.

She couldn't afford to lose their home.

Where would her husband return to when they realized his innocence?

Where would her son sleep when they finally returned him to her?

Where would she go?

She had no family left, no land to her name- Vernon had been quite insistant it all be within his own and the Govenment had taken that when they unjustifly stole her husband. If she lost the house she would lose everything- and Marge would never house her.

She had to do something, she had to think of something.

But what?

She couldn't possibly pay the indention while Vernon's accounts where frozen and she was just barely getting by with what little she held within her own. There was no possible way she could pay off this Eviction.

* * *

"This one... This one...Useless...Useless...Useless...This one..."

The men in Doctor's Coats where back, picking orphans from their line up left and right. Those chosen had a look of terror in their eyes and some even clung to others, desperate not to go. Dudley couldn't blame them.

The rumor was all those chosen went to a living Hell on Earth and where never seen or heard from again. At first, Dudley didn't believe it himself- he had believed them to be a way out of here and back into his comfortable lifestyle- until they had fount a body of one of the chosen under the ice of a nearby river completely unrecognizable. They ended up having to identify them by a set of numbers that was burned through their skin and into their shoulder bones.

Bronislav Vadim had only been five years old when taken, he was only six when they fount the body.

To be chosen was to die.

He tensed slightly under the man's glacier like eyes as they seemed to view him as cattle stock.

"...Useless..."

He relaxed as he was pushed to the side Useless was the best thing one could hope here.

* * *

"We've got a hanger in Isolation Cell D-6."

"Huh, I'm surprised he survived this long."

Warden Charles Hughes sighed softly as he listened to his Deputy and Patrol Officer discuss the man's suicide as though they where taking about the weather at luncheon.

"Cut him down. I need to make a phone call."

MI6 would be very disappointed the man they suspected of espionage was dead but if Vernon Dursley had been a spy it was only to be expected. Loose ends never lasted longer then three years once someone caught onto them.

* * *

Three years...

Huh, if the Russian was honest he had expected the walrus of a man to commit suicide much sooner or at least have someone _'help'_ him along the way. Neither Rapist nor Child Abusers lasted very long on the inside but...

He supposed the other prisoners had enjoyed their new toy too much to aid in that category. Shame he didn't last long enough to be charged with espionage, if he had- well the Walrus' time in prison would have looked like a Kit's Tea Party compared to what they would have done to him.

Still as least Horse and Pig where still in the game.

If he played his cards right maybe he could shift the espionage charges a bit to at least involve Horse as a knowing and willing participant.

"Okay, whatever your thinking the answer is no; so stop smiling like that."

Red's smile dropping in an instant to be replaced with an unamused scowl as he gave Black an pointed look. At times he wondered why he bothered keeping the Grimm Animagus around when all the other did at times was attempt to short circuit his fun.

"I'm going to visit Agent Nigel today. Will you require anything while I'm out?"

"Wait, isn't that he penguin that attempted killing us last Sunday?"

"Da."

"And you want to visit him?"

"Da."

"The Penguin who tried killing us?"

"Da."

Stormy eyes continued to stare in disbelief as the other spoke a bit slowly- as though he was speaking to a toddler.

"This _'Agent Nigel'_ Attempted to kill you just two days ago and now you want to go prancing into his home? Alone. Where he can easily try again and perhaps succeed where he last failed?"

"I do not prance but Da. "

"That's not happening," Black spoke bluntly as he pushed himself onto his feet, "If you must go I shall accompany you. "

Maybe it was the Grimm's loyalty that prevented the rouge from just throwing the other out at times? Or maybe it was just the outright terror in the Penguin Agents' eyes when they spotted a massive Grimm stalking him about like a lost puppy?

...

...

Eh, Maybe it was just a bit of both. He really enjoyed watching their terror and it was nice to have someone around who didn't attempt to stab him in the back every five seconds.

* * *

"Gracious Father Above, Red. Where did you get such a monstrous mutt?"

A low growl left said mutt though the Russian paid it no mind, Nigel pushed Private slightly more behind him. It wouldn't be the first time, the mad squirrel took in a stray feral; heaven only knew when it would attack.

"Hell."


	9. Chapter 9

"For God's Sake, Nigel. Black is not going to eat the Kit."

Red knew people thought him irresponcible- considering his history it wasn't that hard to figure out why- but he wasn't one to threaten Kits; wither it be dirrectly or indirrectly. If he thought Black was a threat the russain wouldn't have brought the Grimm with him.

"Its a Grimm, Red. A Bloody Grimm."

"Really? I thought it was a kitten."

Emerald eyes meet gold with an unamused deadpanned look before something seems to register within the unnatural orbs.

"Wait a moment, did you say Black? As in Sirius Black?"

For not the first time that day, the russian barely manages to resist the urge to bang his head into the nearest wall.

* * *

 **Crash!**

The sound of glass breaking had Private flinching slightly as his attention drew to the widow for the dining room barely in time to see a blur of crimson and black fall just out of sight. A moment later the black and white blurr was in sight again as it went crashing into the kitchen follow swiftly by the crimson blurr.

 **Bang!**

 **Crash!**

 **Shatter!**

For the sound of it, the two blurrs where having some war within the kitchen.

"... What are they doing?"

A soft chuckle left the large dog who he had been ridding upon.

"Well you see Pup, when two people love each other very much-"

 **Boom!**

Two sets of eyebrow rose as the whole cottage shuttered in the blast only moments before a blackish grey smoke began flooding out of the kitchen windows.

"-They causes explosions. Loud massive explosions that shake the foundations of their very homes and beings along with anyone near them... So where did you say that garden you wanted to show me earlier was?"

"..."

* * *

"Now look what you did!"

"Me? You're the one who threw the garnade!"

"You pulled a knife on me!"

"After you tried shooting me!"

"Only after you hit me with a frying pan!"

"You threw scolding and still boilling water in my face!"

"You attacked me, in my own house!"

"You threw the first punch!"

"You let a serial killer into my home and alone with my nephew!"

"Black's innocent and I got solid proof you Nimbrod!"

"Then why the hell didn't you say that from the start?!"

"I was going to but you jumped to conclusions! If I wanted to kill you or your nephew Nigel, I would do it myself! You deserve that much respect at least."

"... We need to work on your idea of respect. "

A low growl left the rouge as he stood while brushing the shattered glass fragments from his fur. Damnable spy, there was absolutely nothing wrong with his respect unlike a certain someone he could name- coughNigelcough- not that he would. He was above such petty matters.

"Hypocrite."

Emerald eyes meet gold, full of innocence and confusion.

"Whatever as you talking about?"

The Russian wasn't buying it though. Nigel was as much of a gentleman as possible when he wished to be but the rouge had personally witness the last time the spy had showed one of his enemies _'respect'._

"I was there when you ripped off Indri's arm and beat him to death with it."

If it was possible, the innocence and confusion within the spy's expression dropped faster then Rockgut's Sanity could ever hope to accomplish.

"It never happened. "

"I don't know. I'm quite certain those screams-"

Emerald flashed dangerously much to the rouge's amusement.

"Never. Happened."

 _Just a little more._

"Don't tell me that sharp mind of you're is already dulling with age- not that I'm surprised to be honest, even the best of minds wither away when surrounded by such blinding incompetence. If you want I could always show you the recording."

 **Bam!**

Throwing himself to the side, the rouge just avoided the chopping block aimed at his head and swiftly leaned backwards to avoid the flipper aimed for his face.

What? Fighting with Nigel was one of the few salient things he enjoyed in life.

* * *

Magic.

Watching the wrecked room repair itself, Private could feel his beak drop as his eyes widened.

He had heard of magic of course- though it was usually within the context of 'No such thing'. Yet here it was, repairing an unrepairable room as Black lectured his Uncle and the one who reminded him so much of safety; Red, he believed the squirrel was called.

"-seen more responsible children-"

It was amazing yet at the same time dully familiar; as though he had seen it happened hundreds of times before. Of course that was ridiculous; the closest thing he had ever seen towards this sort of magic had been Widow's Voodoo... Right?

* * *

"Da. Da. I know. Agent Nigel and I have...fustrations concerning one another."

At those words the Grimm perked up, a taunting grin appearing on his muzzle.

"Sexual?"

A lone golden eye narrowed at the all too instrested Grimm as a hint of deadpanned annoyance took to the rouge's voice.

"Nyet."

Stormy grey eyes seemed to shine brightly at the rouge response as the grin grew.

"It seems to me that someone is in denial, but worry not my friend. I, The Great and Almighty Sex God; Sirius Black shall aid you in overcoming this great Crusade of Forbidden Love!"

If he hadn't been so busy ranting his greatness and assured victory of winning the rouge the spy's heart, Sirius Black might have noticed how said rouge had frozen midstep containing a gleam of upmost horror within his lone eye.

 _Oh God! Not another one._

It was bad enough someone- and when the rouge discovered who he would slowly skin them alive- had most of the world believing he and Nigel where secretly in love but to add a wizard like Black to that mix...

An icy chill of dread rushed down the rouge's spin. May the Gods have mercy upon his blackened soul.

 _~Elsewhere~_

Nigel couldn't help but freeze in the midst of leaving the now sleeping Private's room as a dreadful chill ran down his spine. For some reason he had the strangest feeling his rather adorable Nemesis was swearing some sort of vengeance against him again, but that was preposterous.

The younger didn't know- and had no reason to conclude- he had started the rumor which had convinced most of the world the two of them where secret lovers after all.


	10. Spying on the Spy

Uncle Nigel, Private learned quickly, while a gentle penguin was also a busy one.

The elder always seemed to have company at the oddest of hours and sometimes would leave at night when he thought the younger was asleep for hours on end. Yet the elder also seemed to be back by morning with a friendly smile in place and happy setting out their breakfast.

Though he couldn't bring himself to ask, Private fount himself becoming rather curious about what the gentlemanly penguin was up to in his spare time. After all, Penguins weren't really known to do much besides being _'Cute and Cuddly'_. Then again, the past year alone had crushed every belief he once held about the _'mindless and/or savage'_ animals humanity thought all other life on Earth to be.

Silently the young hatchling observes his Uncle once more leave under the cover of nightfall before steeling himself and making his way out of his room. If he moved quick enough maybe he could get a bit of investigation into what his Uncle was up to before the elder returned.

Unfortunately, Private's original plan to search his Uncle's Study is dashed when he finds the door firmly locked, with no amount of his attempted lock picking skills seems to be capable of opening- Seems he was going to have to do more then just study a book if he wanted within that room. Still- thankfully- Uncle's bedroom door was unlocked.

Uncle wasn't a Penguin of many material possessions, Hell, Private was certain he held more possessions within a corner of his own room then the elder held in his whole room.

There was a bed with emerald silky green sheets that matched the elder's wallpaper, a dark ebony dresser on one wall that matched the floorboards, a set of matching nightstands holding sparse picture frames on both sides of the bed, and two bookshelves framing the medium size window on the other wall. The was a door on the right wall which Private was willing to bet lead to a master bathroom.

All in all, the room looked like it belonged in one of those Home Designer Magazines that Aunt Petunia used to always _'oh'_ and _'aw'_ at.

The photos mostly seemed to consist of what he recognized to be a younger Uncle, an older penguin who looked similar to him but with stormy eyes- if he had to put his money down, Private would say that was Uncle's Father, they looked to similar not to be related- and a female penguin with longer white hair and silver eyes- probably the sister Uncle talked about.

The only different picture contained an image of what looked to be a younger version of Uncle with a pleased gleam in his eyes and a confident smile sitting on the right side of what looked to be a younger Mr. Red- his lone eye giving off a sense of boredom and annoyance yet mild acceptable. On Mr. Red's left side was another penguin, one Private didn't recognize with a military cut 'hairstyle' and hostile crimson eyes which where watching the rouge on his left like he excepted the younger to bust out in maniacal laughter while blowing them all sky high just for the hell of it.

Despite the different expressions each held, none of the trio held so much as a tense muscle in their bodies.

The sole dresser mainly held scarves of assorted colors and hats neatly sitting on top of- what Uncle no doubt deemed- their suitable counterparts. Though what really held the emerald eyed hatchlings attention was the silver suitcase with a lock looking more like it belonged out of a sci-fi show then reality. Which left young Private with a new question:

Exactly how he was supposed to open that?

Its not like his book discussed highly advance locks that according to all public records should only exist upon an alien spacecraft or something of the sort. Unfortunately before the younger could actually have time to ponder upon his current situation, the soft echoing of feet against wood and a low mumbling voice reached his ears causing emerald eyes to widen.

It would appear, Uncle had turned back early tonight.

That thought alone had emerald eyes darting panicky around the room, he needed somewhere- anywhere- to hide before Uncle discovered him.

* * *

"Silly me."

It was easy to fall into a character, but sometimes it was a bit difficult remembering he didn't have to act the part everyday. Yet it seemed; clumsy, bumbling, 'Dolly' obsessed Uncle Nigel just wouldn't stay down.

The spy didn't mind, he was rather fond of that persona, but to forget his suitcase...

Well it was a good thing no one was around to see that, the thought alone of anyone, let alone managing to obtain such dirt on him...

Well, he would never hear the end of it.

Literally.

Bloody American was always on his case about his career choices and his 'sole minded focus'. Ha, like Rockgut was anyone to lecture about being sole minded- how long had that paranoid bird been looking for Red in the wrong bloody continent. And then there was his sense of direction- or lack of it so to speak- and his habit of rushing off to obviously make believe places.

Frowning, the spy paused outside his bedroom door- certain for a moment that he heard the sound of feet shuffling over wood from within the room before all feel silent once more. Straightening his shoulder's as his eyes narrowed, the spy slowly pushed open the door.

Empty.

The whole bloody room was exactly how he left it and more importantly- empty. Still, just because you don't see anyone doesn't mean they're not there. Slowly he began to make his way around the room.

Slight smear on the wooden floors, likely caused by someone of a smaller stature spinning in place. Picture sitting at a forty-three degree angle when he left it at a forty-five, slight edge of a emerald scarf sticking out of his dresser, covers ruffled slightly, and probably most importantly was his suitcase sitting innocently on the bedroom floor instead of inside his dresser.

In other words, a small penguin- likely between two to five pounds- rough estimate that of a hatchling was snooping around through his bedroom, probably started with the pictures and slowly made his way around to the dresser where he discovered the suitcase and attempted to either open or get a better look at it. Most possible scenario was the young one had heard him coming and sense he didn't see anyone rushing out the door and the alarm on the window hadn't been tripped the Lad was likely under his bed.

The very idea had the spy chuckling softly to himself as he bent down to pick up his suitcase with a sense of pride- catching a brief glimpse of his terrified looking nephew huddled under the bed with flippers covering his beak.

As he suspected.

Straightening up, the spy shook his head.

Such an curious young Lad.

Hhmm, Nigel suppose he could let the younger off the hook this time but the Lad would diffentally need a new set of books- maybe even a bit of training disguised as a bit of fun- if he ever wanted to be a suitable spy. Nodding to himself, Nigel let himself out of his room, chuckling softly when he heard the relieved sigh from under the bed as the door clicked shut.

* * *

Private waited until he could no longer hear his Uncle's quiet footsteps before quickly clambering out from under the bed and rushing down to his own bedroom, wincing as he managed to accidently slam the door before swiftly climbing underneath his covers- just in case the elder decided to check out the sudden noise.

That had been close, too close.

Luckily Uncle Nigel didn't even consider looking under the bed or he would have been caught red flippered. Unable to stop himself from grinning, Private couldn't help the sense of pride that felt him knowing he had been able to not only sneak into his Uncle's room but do so without the elder once suspecting he was there- it made him feel like one of those characters from the stories his Uncle told him every night and filling him with a sense of upmost delight.

Tomorrow he would just have to go about his day normally and Uncle Nigel would never know he was ever there.


	11. Chapter 11

"Uncle, watch out-"

 **Crash!**

Private couldn't help but smile as the elder penguin managed to trip over thin air yet again as he set aside the new book his Uncle had granted him titled: _Covert Tactics._ The guilt upon receiving the gift only days after breaking both the elder's trust and lying to the other's face have ravaged him mind for hours before the younger managed to shove those emotions aside.

 _What Uncle Nigel didn't know wouldn't hurt him._

"I'm okay!"

A part of Private couldn't help but worry as the elder sprung to his feet, holding the hot kettle with his flippers as though it was an infant. How the porcelain didn't shatter considering the amount of times his Uncle had tripped over thin air, dropped it during a moment of clumsiness or fallen down a flight of stairs- somehow managing to hit every step at least twice on the way down- while holding it was one of life's many mysteries.

It was a mystery the younger had spent many of days attempting to solve yet never quite managed. After weeks of pondering upon the issue, Private eventually decides it was one of Life's Great Wonder which was forever meant to remain a mystery. So the younger of the two doesn't even question the impossibility before him as he helps Nigel to his feet before carefully guides the elder towards the table.

Its a slow process- the elder of the two somehow managing to trip on thin air on three separate occasions- but eventually Private manages to guide the older to his chair without either of them actually hitting the floor. The smile he receives make the trouble well worth the effort.

Afternoon Tea was a _Family Thing_ within the Tux Household, something his Uncle was rather insistent upon- a time where they could just sit together and talk with no electronics in sight- it was also a time where Private would test his relaxes in ensuring the scolding tea actually ended up inside their proper glasses instead of on the table top or worse in their lap.

Private learns soon enough, its also the time his Beloved Uncle delivers the worst of news.

* * *

"I have a business meeting coming up. "

Nigel couldn't help but shiver as he felt the sudden chill in the air as his nephew's distressed emerald eyes bore into his own. The spy wasn't quite sure where the chill originated from but it always seemed to be there when the younger was distressed by something or another.

"What?!"

The younger's voice is tight yet with emotions and for not the first time the spy feels as though someone has put his life on repeat. Private was always like this when it came to Business Meetings that involved him being gone for more then a day. The Lad had severe separation issues- not that Nigel blamed the Hatchling seeing as how the younger ended up in his care to began with- but the spy couldn't put his life on hold forever. The Commander was already harassing him about cutting his vacation short and getting back on the field, it didn't help the body count had begun to rise once more.

"Now Lad, if all goes well it'll only be for a week and Padfoot has already agreed to watch you. "

"A week?!"

Nigel tries to pretend he doesn't see the glass shaking within its window frame nor the look of upmost horror etched upon the younger's face.

* * *

This was a bad, no horrid idea. Completely and utterly horrid.

A week?

Uncle Nigel couldn't walk a straight line on a good day. How could anyone expect him to survive out there- without him- for a whole seven days and nights?

It was suicide! They couldn't just send Nigel away from him!

What if he was kidnapped? Eaten alive? Hit by a train? What if the other's clumsy nature had him falling down a bottomless pit? What if he was captured by humans and locked in a zoo for all eternity? Eaten by Sea Lions?

"Lad, Breathe!"

They couldn't do this to him- to them. Surely they had someone better suited for such an extended trip?

"Lad, I've been doing that job since I was a Lad. I'm the best they've got. Which is why I need to go this time."

Had he actually said that aloud?

"Yes."

...Opps.

A soft chuckle seemed to fill the air.

"You know, I always thought it was the parent that was supposed to worry obsessively when the Hatchlings left the nest. Not the other way around."

Private could feel his face burst aflame as his mind ponder exactly how much of his rant had been spoken aloud for the world to hear.

* * *

If Nigel was asked to describe his life; the spy would say it was much like a raging river; twist and turns at every angle, sharp rocks hidden beneath the beauty of the waves- just waiting for a chance to tear through him- and violent waters relentlessly attempting to drown him. He was in constant danger with Death looming over his head- following him like an extra shadow- and no shore in sight.

Yet even the river would have to change one day; the currents would calm, the rocks would dull, the water would reside into the earth and he would stand upon the shore once more.

Private was that shore and though Nigel would never lean on the younger for support or aid just the Lad's mere presence in the spy's life seemed to grant it more value then any 'honor' did. It was almost like the olden days when his Father and Sister where still alive and he but a Protégé actually attempting to stay alive.

After all, the Lad needed him, even if that him was just his Uncle Nigel Persona.

He couldn't just up and die on the Hatchling now could he?

"Don't worry Lad," the spy offers the younger a smile in hopes to calm the Lad's nerves," I'll be home before you know it."

Nigel pretends not to notice the earth attempting to swallow his feet as he heads out, leaving his precious little nephew with a Grimm of all things.


	12. Chapter 12

He's not fond of partners, too many bad experiences and too many betrayals.

He's even less fond of being sent on a mission with Hatchlings, no matter how much of a prodigy anyone claimed them to be.

So why was it, Nigel wondered as his emerald eyes narrowed at the blue eyed Hatchling across from him, they partnered him with this? They're must of been a mistake somewhere, the Hatchling is young; too young to have graduated the Academy. Yet a part of the Brit knows there is no mistake. Those Bloody Americans- especially Rockgut- where always out to grind his nerves into a fine powdery substance.

A part of the spy wondered wither this was another mistake due to the American's over inflated egos or where they just hoping this Hatchling would be killed on his watch to stain his record...Probably both. If the mission succeeded the Hatchlings Ego would be inflated and praise would rain down on him, maybe even a promotion or two if he was in the Academy that could draw enough attention to gain him a Mentor. If it failed, Nigel would have to carry the knowledge of a hatchlings Death on his hands along with a stain upon both his record and speculations about his abilities- then there was Rockgut who would likely use it to fuel his _'You don't belong in this line of work'_ campaign.

Sighing softly, the spy allowed his eyes to close for a moment before opening them once more to peer down at the nervous wreck before him.

One way or another, Nigel was certain this _'Skipper'_ Lad would cause him more trouble then the younger was worth.

* * *

The first thing Skipper noticed about his newly assigned partner was the eyes; a unique shade of emerald that seemed to stare into his soul, judging him for every action he took and even those he had yet to do.

Everyone knew the Penguin Agents in England where complete Nancy Cats. Tea drinking, biscuit eating, Doily collect, cry over a paper cut Nancy Cats. Too weak and soft to be proper Penguins and by all rights where only suited to watch over eggs. Then again, with their short attention spans they probably couldn't even do that without screwing something it.

It was a common fact that anyone and everyone in the American Agency knew. Everyone knew they where the superior force and if it came down to it ever they hatchlings could defeat their counterpart. It was common knowledge and something the blue eyed penguin had been taught all sixteen years of his life...

Or at least it had been. The penguin before him does not fit that description; his eyes are too sharp, too intelligent for him to be a mindless bumbling idiot. His gaze is serious and the very air about him feels heavy, leaving Skipper with little to no doubt that if they where forced into a fight with one another he would not win.

Unique emerald eyes, natural snow white hair and an air too him that all but has the younger's every instincts screaming danger. If Skipper had to put it in words he would say the Brit was

"Beautiful. "

"I beg your pardon?"

It takes the ocean eyed penguin a moment to realize he has spoken his thoughts aloud and that his partner was now granting him a strongly confused look. For not the first time that day, Skipper cannot help but wish for the ground to swallow him whole.

"I.. I wanted to know your name."

Its a lie that squeaks past but if the Brit notices he thankfully doesn't not call him out on it.

"You didn't read the file, did you?"

No. No Skipper had not, he had not seen the point when he was determined to demand a replacement for a partner- after all, it was supposed to have been an idiot before him- though now the younger fount himself desperately wishing he had.

* * *

Despite the other having only been with him for less then a day, Private finds he does not like this Padfoot.

He's too loud, too exuberant; much like child on their first sugar high trapped within an adults body. The Grimm was the sort who was used to attention, be it good or bad. His every movement was brash speaking of a cockiness as though he thought the world could not touch him. He was likely the sort to jump headfirst into any conflict with a smile on his face and that loud bark like laughter echoing around him. It was likely to get him killed sooner rather then later.

Yet despite the younger's discomfort, Private tries to tolerate the Grimm. If not for his sake then for his Uncle's, who only meant the best but obviously didn't understand you couldn't leave a child to watch another.

They make it to midday before Private finds himself drugging the elder's tea with sleeping pills.


	13. Chapter 13

It was a strange mission really, an ongoing one that never quite seemed to stop after starting up in the early 1940s. It had started, as most of these strange case do, with a particular murder.

A small family of three; a husband, wife and their twelve year old daughter had been murdered within their on home. The sole witness- a neighbor who had a bad habit of eavesdropping- had sworn up and down they had seen a group of people in black cloaks wearing white masks storm into the home and had called their local law enforcement immediately. By time there was no one but corpses left behind, the strange people having somehow vanished into thin air.

On the outside all three victims had appeared fine- despite the fact they where dead- yet on the inside there was blaring obvious signs of having been tortured for what only could have been years despite it having only taken ten minutes for the officers to arrive. There was no clear sign of what caused their deaths, instead it was almost as if all three had just up and decided to die at the simultaneously.

The strangest thing the investors managed to locate at the crime scene was a polished stick.

Not long after similar crime scenes began to pop up left and right all throughout Europe each holding similarities: sparse witnesses always seeing a group in black cloaks and white masks, inner signs of torture yet no clear sign of what killed them, and the polished sticks. Sometimes they fount blood belonging to none of the victims at the crime sense but when they ran it, there was never a match in the data base.

Only recently had the crimes slowed yet every now and then exact cases would pop up here and there. Yet those sent to investigate never fount anything or they ended up dead in the same exact ways as the victims.

Which was why Nigel had been assigned the case with this Hatchling of a partner.

The Commander was tired of the bodies- both of citizens and his Agents- pilling up and the Queen was demanding answers they did not have, answers he was expected to come up with or die trying.

Nigel would do his best to complete the former option instead of the later.

Emerald eyes narrowed at the files before him, taking note of the starching similarities. Each victim had seemingly normal for the first ten years of their lives but all but disappeared upon reaching the age of eleven. Every now and then they where seen during what for most children would be summer or winter holidays and when asked all the parents claimed they attended a Private school of some sort or another. Yet when he attempted to research these schools half of them didn't exist and the half never had any students matching the victims name or description.

As was as though the Hatchlings had all but vanished into thin air and honestly should have sent up red flags the moment the first investigator looked over the files so how the hell did anyone miss this?

Reaching over, the emerald eyed agent grabbed several random files from the citizens stack, a theory running wild within his mind.

If these Hatchlings had disappeared at eleven who was to say others had not as well? Others who may have fount their way back to proper civilization and protection of the Crown.

* * *

The elder should have been a scholar, Skipper decides as he rubs his tired eyes once more in hopes of preventing the words from blurring into inkblots once more. It doesn't do much good, all the words look the same; a blur of black ink on pale papers. With a soft sigh, the blue eyed penguin places the papers aside.

He was never the paperwork sort, instead choosing to only write a few words then black out the rest and label it _'Classified'_ or to subtly shuffle it into Hans own stack when the puffin wasn't looking. He was the Field sort, working better when he wasn't behind a desk for hours on end. Regretfully leaving wasn't an option; he lacked the clearance necessary to even know this building even existed and if he was caught wondering about it without Nigel...

Screwed wouldn't even began to cover it.

Speaking of which, the younger allowed his gaze to shift over towards the white haired Penguin as the elder finally paused within his work, titling his head ever so slightly in silent thought causing the light to reflect off his reading glasses. For behind the frames, Skipper could just make out emerald eyes darting towards the clock then back at him; a brief reassuring smile appearing upon the elder's beak.

"Well Lad, I have everything I need. Once we replace these files, why don't I treat you to a nice luncheon? There's this splendid dinner nearby I'm sure you would enjoy."

Well, if the older was offering; who was he to say no to free food?

* * *

Everyone had secrets, it was a blunt fact of life.

The elderly grandma down the street, the pastor outside the church, the couple wandering the shopping district, the child playing in the park. Every single one of them had something they didn't wish anyone else to know about, it was to be expected. Nigel didn't mind secrets, it was his job to unravel them after all. Yet it was strange to find an obvious secret so well kept. Surely someone must have slipped up at one time or another yet if they did there was no signs of it- almost as though someone had managed to cover it up before anyone could notice...

Now wasn't that a thought? A conspiracy like that would take a multitude of people in various positions of power to successfully and high influence to pull off. Even then someone should have noticed notice: a shift in attitude, an exchange in funds, sudden increase in calls or letters, anything.

So why hadn't they?

A frown fount its way to the elder's beak as he paced back in forth within the alleyway.

He needed to think. There had to be something; a connection he missed? Someway to tie them all together.

Different races, different religions, more then three fourths of them never meet, different cultures, some involved for whole generations, others only recently.

There had to be something he was overlooking, something he was missing.

They all seemed to use owls for delivery- strange and a bit old timey but not unheard of-, all of them seemed to have a polished stick- he had even noticed one of two up the sleeves of people he 'visited' earlier that day, some type of robes... An occult maybe?

Father above it would be so much easier to think if the wall would just stop receding in on itself. The needed to find a way to silent those bricks grating upon one another as they folded into one another. He was beginning to get a headache from listening to it.

Sighing softly, The Spy turned on heel. Preparing to leave and hopefully find a much quieter place to think before pausing misstep as his thoughts registered.

 _Wait a bloody second._

Spinning back around, an silver brow rose at the cobblestone alleyway full of street merchants- framed by an archway that had once just been a brick wall- behind him.

 _Curious._

He didn't quite recall that being in the City's Foundation- nor renovation- blueprints when he looked them over.


End file.
